The Ivy Crown by William Carlos Williams

8:00:00 PM

reposted her for the pleasure of lady-friend -  JC

source: http://illsandthrillsoflove.blogspot.com
date accessed: 03 Dec. 2016
date published: 31 March 2010
original post title: From There....to Here, From Then....to Now: A Year of Love Poetry, Day-by-Day


The Ivy Crown - W.C. Williams



------------------------
 The Ivy Crown

The whole process is a lie,

                  unless,

                                     crowned by excess,

it break forcefully,

                  one way or another,

                                     from its confinement –

or find a deeper well.

                  Antony and Cleopatra

                                     were right;

they have shown

                  the way.  I love you

                                    or I do not live

at all.


Daffodil time

                  is past. This is

                                    summer, summer!

the heart says,

                  and not even the full of it.

                                    No doubts

are permitted –

                  though they will come

                                     and may

before our time

                  overwhelm us.

                                    We are only mortal

but being mortal

                  can defy our fate.

                                    We may

by an outside chance

                  even win!  We do not

                                    look to see

jonquils and violets

                  come again

                                    but there are,

still,

                  the roses!


Romance has no part in it.

                 The business of love is

                                    cruelty which,

by our will,

                 we transform

                                    to live together.

It has its seasons,

                 for and against,

                                    whatever the heart

fumbles in the dark

                 to assert

                                    toward the end of May.

Just as the nature of briars

                 is to tear flesh,

                                    I have proceeded

through them.

                 Keep

                                    the briars out,

they say.

                 You cannot live

                                    and keep free of

briars.


Children pick flowers.

                  Let them,

                                    Through having them

in hand

                  they have no further use for them

                                    but leave them crumpled

at the curb’s edge.


At our age the imagination

                  across the sorry facts

                                    lifts us

to make roses

                  stand before thorns.

                                   Sure

love is cruel

                  and selfish

                                   and totally obtuse –

at least, blinded by the light,

                  young love is.

                                   But we are older,

I to love

                  and you to be loved,

                                   we have,

no matter how,

                  by our wills survived

                                   to keep

the jeweled prize

                  always

                                   at our finger tips.

We will it so

                  and so it is

                                   past all accident.


                                                                                  William Carlos Williams - American

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